


Time to Jump

by Milli Moi (Millimoi)



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Baby, Baby Rose, F/M, Past Character Death, Pregnancy, Superbaby, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:40:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28610721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Millimoi/pseuds/Milli%20Moi
Summary: James Barnes knew there was a paper trail, a collection of noted events joining last winter through spring and summer till now, but leaning in the doorway between the small kitchenette into the living area of the apartment he wondered if the finishing details of that trail were only straight and clear in his mind.He could tell she had been trying to read through a file when she had fallen asleep. One of Natasha’s arms had slipped from her side so her knuckles dragged the floor. The file lay just beyond the open hand where it had fallen from her grasp. Her head slumped to rest almost against her shoulder, that was going to hurt later. He stood still, having debated whether to try and move her to bed, whether to bring a blanket but he had decided against it. Natasha was known to wake up if a pin dropped on to the carpet, she was exhausted, her body beginning to get tired with the added strain.He wasn’t sure when she had last got a good full nights sleep, and the coming months weren’t looking like much of a turn up for the books.So he stood in the doorway, jacket still on, shopping bags huddled at his feet while he thought about what to do.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 3
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

James Barnes knew there was a paper trail, a collection of noted events joining last winter through spring and summer till now, but leaning in the doorway between the small kitchenette into the living area of the apartment he wondered if the finishing details of that trail were only straight and clear in his mind. 

He could tell she had been trying to read through a file when she had fallen asleep. One of Natasha’s arms had slipped from her side so her knuckles dragged the floor. The file lay just beyond the open hand where it had fallen from her grasp. Her head slumped to rest almost against her shoulder, that was going to hurt later. He stood still, having debated whether to try and move her to bed, whether to bring a blanket but he had decided against it. Natasha was known to wake up if a pin dropped on to the carpet, she was exhausted, her body beginning to get tired with the added strain. 

Of course, he knew she needed to slow down. All assignments she was given were based on delegating but it was more than she should be doing. He wasn’t sure when she had last got a good full nights sleep, and the coming months weren’t looking like much of a turn up for the books. 

So he stood in the doorway, jacket still on, shopping bags huddled at his feet while he thought about what to do. 

* * *

In many ways, this had all began much longer ago than last winter, a few years ago at least, but recent enough that James had found himself surrounded by new knowledge of the female body. He had been reasonably shocked when two and two had come together to explain those always adverts with the blue liquid and the connection between these confusing products and the monthlies he had heard of. He had also found himself in a world full of sexual imagery, struggling to get his head around women wearing little enough fabric that they once belonged in men’s magazines now wearing the same underwear on televisions. In terms of the act itself, there was more, he had begun hearing about pills, implants, injections and had seen the abundance of condoms that now existed openly on the shelves in stores. In his youth- in theirs - only pulling out in the last moments had been used to prevent babies but he had come to know that even that was not effective. 

The conversation had come following an evening tryst. Natasha had felt him try to pullback, to remove himself from her body with enough time for the white liquid to spurt onto her stomach. She had shaken her head, encasing his hips with her thighs and digging her feet into his lower back. At first he had tried to fight back, but after only seconds of doing so she was reaching down with her hand, grasping for his flesh hand and pulling it between her legs, pressing his fingers just where she wanted them. 

It always amazed James how that little button of her anatomy could do so much, the press of his fingers, a light rub and he could feel her muscles deep inside shudder and squeeze around him.

As much as he had hesitated he had to admit it felt different, it felt amazing. He had only released inside her a handful of times, some of which had been out of his control, because of that he hadn’t really thought about her experience. 

She had hummed along with his movements, eyes closed and eyebrows close together but when he felt the shudders of them both, he noticed the small smile come on her face as his body instinctively pushed his seed deeper into her. 

She released her grip with her thighs, letting her legs flop to the side and hooking a hand around each shoulder she had encouraged him to meet her face to face. They kissed for a while, both of their hearts thundering in their chests, but at the first opportunity, James had asked the question playing on his mind.

“You can feel that, inside, when I,” he trailed off, still not feeling he had the words to describe that end result. 

She nodded, 

“Yes,” 

He kissed her again, rolling his body off to lean on his side, placing a hand on her hip to bring her with him. 

“Do you… do you have something, an injection or a pill or something that..?” 

Natasha was already shaking her head as he tried to form the question. Her eyes seemed sad, 

“No, I don’t need to, I mean it has happened before. I have been pregnant.” 

James felt his stomach drop at those words, she had a child he didn’t know about? He wasn’t sure how that could even be possible, where was it, who looked after it, what had happened that he didn’t know? 

Natasha carried on, her gaze shifting, avoiding looking in his eyes. 

“I was sixteen, the father a soldier who treated me so much better than I’d ever been treated before. He was killed in action, I went into labour only days later. The rest of the unit didn’t know until I was already giving birth, they found a local woman who helped me. It was so hard, I remember that - the pains had gone on for days. I looked it all up in the nineties, learned I had probably been in labour for about five or six days. I’d known it wasn’t time even then, but now I believe I was only around six and a half months pregnant, out of the nine it should be. In reality, they’d call it a late miscarriage now, she wasn’t meant for this world. When she came out she was silent, my baby girl, she never breathed. I held her wrapped in a shawl against my chest as she became colder and bluer. 

I remember being wet, when the local midwife had gently taken her from me, insisting we needed to lay her out before her body set. The midwife- her name was Vika - she explained it was milk leaking from me, I’ve often thought it was like the tears that couldn’t flow from my eyes were finding another way out.” 

At that part of her story, Natasha had looked back at him, tears brimming in her eyes, a few silently sliding down her face and leaving a shine on her cheeks. 

She hadn’t needed to ask for him to envelop her smaller body in his arms. James held her tight, hearing gentle sobs from where she had tucked her head into his chest, he held her as tight as he could, supporting as much of her body as he could. He wished he could absorb the feelings from her somehow, take on some of the pain she must have known for so many years. James thought he knew all her pain, and she his, but this piece of the puzzle was buried so deep that she could hide it from herself. 

* * *

He had learned more from her over the next few days, heard more about the tiny baby girl who had been a perfect, peaceful miniature. Natasha had named her Rose, a name that wasn’t recognised in Russian at the time. He learned she was buried in the Slovensky forests of Slovakia, which had been the USSR back then. He had heard her explain that it was both the first and the last time she had been pregnant. She explained that the Biochemical experimentation that had taken place on the Red Room girls had made her immune system so strong that her body saw a pregnancy as a threat. When Rose had been born Natasha hadn’t yet finished the course given to all the girls, she believed back then her body had mostly killed sperm, that somehow the one that was necessary had got through. Despite that her body had still been hostile to the baby, causing her to die. Since then there had been no sign she could conceive.

Contraceptives were an inconvenience that she used for work only, that same immune system meaning she wasn’t at risk of any sexual diseases, they kept up the facade. 

After all of that, after unburying the painful truth, they had stopped pulling out. James had to admit it was a small perk of Natasha’s infertility. They could enjoy a play under the blankets without anything in the way, without planning. It meant more fun, more adventure and taking advantage of the flexibility Natasha had. 

* * *

Then it all changed. It changed dramatically and quickly in ways they couldn’t have imagined. Natasha had been away for a few weeks home only days and off again on another job. They had barely seen each other in person and then, arriving home after a days work, looking forward to having Natasha’s company and knowing she should have been back in the flat before him, James had walked into a scene he hadn't expected. Natasha’s cabin-sized case sat on the counter, the top open and a few items had been rummaged through. He had called her name, shouting a second time when he crossed out into the hallway. 

“Ugh, yeah, in here James.” 

The reply sounded distant, distracted. She hadn’t come to meet him. He saw the light on in the ensuite but his eyes had caught on something else lying on the edge of the bed. He’d never forget that moment. 

There had been a paper bag on the bed, the type which came from a pharmacy, then there was some stick of white plastic a bit longer and slimmer than a marker pen, a little cap even stuck on one end. He had known what it was instantly, from tv and advertising, but he had been so thrown off by the eight-letter word clearly visible in the window situated in the centre. He was certain he could never forget the lettering, the hue of grey/black, every part of the word pregnant. 

“Is this real?” He remembered saying the words out loud as he had looked at it, not sure if he was talking to himself, the chemical test or Natasha but she had emerged from the bathroom while he spoke. He had heard her reply before he saw her. 

“yeah, I think it's pretty real.” 

He had turned to see her standing in the joining doorway, her eyes on him but her mind clearly miles away. She looked pale, he couldn’t tell if it was a result of shock. Natasha had stood there her spaghetti strap top pulled into a rough bunch and held in one hand the other one sitting just below her belly button. 

* * *

Braving it James moved slowly back across the kitchen and out into the hallway at the other side, breathing a sigh of relief when he got into the small box room-slash-study-slash-armoury without any sounds that indicated he had woken Natasha. 

The room was still mostly in its multipurpose state, only a few large unopened boxes indicated that any time now it was to become a nursery. Among the groceries, he had brought home was a few extras. Diapers in newborn size, which he had eventually narrowed down from the packs upon packs on the store shelves. Along with these were the wipes, the cotton wool balls, a pack of pacifiers he had decided to get at the last moment. 

He hadn’t brought any clothes in, respecting Natasha’s culture where superstition dictated that nothing for the unborn baby should be brought into the home until it had arrived. Of course, there were many things that this couldn’t apply to for practicality reasons, and it hadn’t stopped him having a bag in the trunk that had the tiny onesies, sleepers, hats, socks and mittens. 

He sighed as he took in one of the two large boxes, the first contained the basket for the baby to sleep in, something that maybe could stay within its box, but the second, the second was where he saw concern.

The second box was the car seat, the seat that by law they needed to bring home their baby. The seat would need to be properly installed in the car, it’s straps would need to be set at the right level, he would need to check it could fit securely in the car and - his biggest reason for concern - it needed to be in situ when her labour began. The baby had been due two days ago. 

Leaving his latest editions to the baby stash where they were he made his way back to the living room. Natasha hadn’t moved, still sleeping on her back which was a rarity. Usually, she slept curled up tightly in a ball, he reckoned it came from a life where warmth was not a given, where the young girls were tortured by being shackled to beds with no more than a sheet to cover themselves in the freezing nights. 

Bucky wasn’t sure what drew him to sit by her side, but that’s where he ended up. He sat on the floor, knees tucked up under his chin, his head in line with her belly on the sofa. He picked up the manila file, tossed it lightly onto the coffee table. He was surprised to see the thicker file already sitting there, the file with her name scrawled on a sticker on the front which contained all her maternity care records. Had she been looking through it? That would be a first.

“ Oh miss Tasha, what are we going to do about this mess?” 

Bucky sighed, speaking to no one in particular - even Liho the once street cat had been keeping her distance at the moment, only appearing for food now and then. It was like the cat knew something was up, that the woman she had once forced into adopting her had a new intruder who needed to be loved far more than the little black cat did. 

“You know, it wasn’t something we ever thought about, back then I mean, having kids one day, well that was a part of life. None of the boys ever really thought about it much, maybe we were too young to really think about it but that’s what a happy marriage meant back then. A man and wife who loved each other, well they had a bunch of kids. Maybe the queers didn’t think like that, you know, the homosexual men, but even most of them must’ve got married and such ‘cause there weren’t many single men around. Even the single ones, like Tony’s father back then, they always had a pretty girl on their arm. “ 

He let silence fall for a moment, reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out his brown leather wallet. It was starting to get a little tattered now but Natasha always insisted that you couldn’t buy your own wallet. His Ma had been superstitious like that, all the Irish descendants were. They had come from a country so much older than the United States of America, a country full of explanations made before science gave them the words to understand the truth. Still, a lot of the superstition had stayed on. Bucky smiled to himself thinking what his Ma would have said about owning a black cat. 

Unfolding the wallet he pulled out the three images he kept in there. The first was one he’d been given as a gift by Bruce Banner, he didn’t know the guy well other than that he was generally a little quiet but always kind-hearted. The Doc had got the photograph enhanced on his computer and reprinted it in good quality. It was him and Steve, in their uniforms, Steve had an arm thrown around his shoulder and they looked happy even if they were covered in all types of dust and dirt. 

He flicked through to the second picture, one of Natasha, she was looking back over her shoulder towards the camera, eyes bright and sparkling, her natural hair like fire amidst the snowy background. He believed it was taken in Estonia, somewhere near Aravate. There was a polished snowball in her hand that he knew was coming his way and he knew it would have hit the target only moments after the phone camera snapped the image. 

Again he flicked on, the third image being the one he was looking for. The third one had taken some training for him to understand fully but now that he was used to seeing it he could easily map out the little arm that was up, the elbow bent beside the large head shape, the feet, one ankle crossing the other in what seemed a position no one could be comfortable in. Then he had remembered whom this tiny human was growing within and realised that he knew all about Natasha’s abilities to be comfy in the strangest of ways. The black and white grainy image looked to him like it was all made up of different strands of rice, some black, some white and some grey but he knew that they were made by the transmission of waves, a little like the sonar stuff that dolphins used to communicate, waves that people couldn’t see but machines could read. He had known about x - rays back in his youth, but those were still in the early days and not many people got them, now they had these sonography devices and ones which used magnets too. 

It was mesmerising to think he held a printed out image of the baby who sat behind layers of skin and blood, inside the body of the woman behind him. There was so much of this modern world he was still learning to understand, and so much he was sure that little person would learn alongside him. 

“You know,” he said again, speaking under his breath, 

“I was glad when the baby stayed before then I didn’t know how much I actually wanted it, how much it was so normal for me that I didn’t think about it. It’s the most normal thing we’ve ever had, you and me Nat, the most normal thing we could want after all the mess we’ve had in our lives.“

“ I know you saw a baby die, you saw your own baby die and I can’t imagine what that must’ve felt like. I saw kids die too, but they weren’t all babies. I remember the summer when we went back to school and I sat at my desk, Steve at his, and I had a smile on my face looking at the empty desks, thinking about all the trouble those kids would be in who forgot which day they had to come back to school. The school teacher though, he was usually a pretty strict man, didn’t take any nonsense but he came in that day with his cap in his hand. I’ll never forget that thick feeling of my heart sinking in my chest when he told us. The kids in those empty desks weren’t coming back, they had died over the summer. Measles, each of them; all five.”

“There was the group home a couple of blocks from where we stayed, one of these places for kids with disabilities, though we didn’t say that back then. I remember we were maybe twelve when Eddie Hamilton got Polio, a few months he was in hospital, and when he got out he lived in that home for a bit. He had these big metal braces he had to wear on his legs, they went right up to his hips with joints where his knees were and some sort of wool on the inside to stop them cutting into his skin. He had those braces and two crutches for a long time. I don’t know what happened to him in the end, he never came back to school and we stopped seeing him in the yard of the home.” 

“ I’m worried that you’re not ready, that your mind is too closed off to see the joy in this baby. I think you're scared, and you have a right to be. Nat, the things you’ve had done to you, the things you’ve been forced to do, I know it’s hell. I was there too. Maybe this is the other side, I don’t know if I believe everything my Ma did, or that we learned at church but.” 

He paused to take a breath, thumb stroking the edge of the image in his hand even though he had clearly begun speaking to the sleeping woman at his side.

“My Ma used to say to me that every baby was a new blessing, even those ones that didn’t stay long. We went to Coney Island one time when I was really little, I don’t remember much else from that trip but we went to look at the Child Hatchery - all these tiny babies that I didn’t quite believe were real inside glass cabinets like ornaments on display. My Ma explained that they came out too soon from their Mom’s bellies, that they weren’t ready yet like an undercooked cake. I had asked her why God let them come out too quick if they were stuck in these boxes being sick, and she had said she didn’t know but she bet each one of them had a part to play in the story of their families.” 

“She was right on that, I believe she was anyway. I think what happened to you Nat, you were a kid, and it gives me chills to think of you all alone and in pain like that, but I think you know in your heart why Rose was taken. You don’t want something to happen again, you worry that in that last moment things will turn bad as they did back then. I’ve had to learn that all of the technology in the world now makes things better, those babies at Coney Island, a lot of them live now and a lot of them are even smaller than the ones I saw. They’ve been checking everything, done all the heart checks and the scans.” 

Again he stopped, letting out a sigh, his eyes focused on a spot in the corner of the photograph. He let the words fall into the right order in his mind before saying them out loud. 

“I know I can say all the right things to you, Natasha. I know I can tell you what will and won’t happen, but that doesn’t take it away. I don’t think taking it away really helps though, Rose has been with you for seventy years, in your mind, in your heart. I think she always will be, like my Ma and Pap’s were always in mine, like my picture of Rebecca when I last saw her - not the Rebecca who is riddled with Alzheimer's. I also think Ma was right, this little guy or gal, they are a blessing, they are part of our story and they are meant to be in it. We need to push aside the fear and embrace the excitement, we need to be strong. I’ll be right there with you the whole way, even if it’s something I never expected to see and, even if I really hope none of the nurses speaks Russian. 

“Back then you were alone, you lost Nicolai and then Rose, I didn’t even know you then. Now you’ve not just got me, you’ve got the whole team. Steve, Tony, Clint, Wanda, a load of people who are here, who love you in their own way. Heck, even the cat, sure she won’t come in the house much at the moment but she still wants to check on you. I imagine she was a Mama before you got her fixed, maybe mother’s intuition and all that, but whatever it is even she wants to be here for you. So do I, little miss, and I’m not going anywhere.” 

Bucky let the silence fall again, beginning to feel the embarrassment of having spent a solid ten minutes speaking to no one. He slipped the three images back into their place in his wallet, pushing the leather back into his pocket. He was just about to stand up, to go make himself busy somehow when the husky voice of a barely awake Natasha almost made him jump. 

“Your such a sap Barnes,” 

He turned, seeing her still unmoved but eyes open, smiling at him with the smirk that said she was playing with him. 

“Hey, ugh, how much? Did you hear any of-?” She cut in, stopping his ramble of embarrassment 

“I think I heard most of it, maybe all of it. You moved the file, that woke me up. I was going to say something earlier but, well, we’re not the most open people, I wanted to hear your thoughts.” 

Bucky shifted his weight onto his knees, turning his body to face her as she did the same, moving her body carefully onto its side so she faced him properly. He felt the tips of his ears burning, even after everything the thought of Natasha hearing him pour out all of his thoughts as words made a part of Bucky cringe. 

“Your right.” 

Natasha’s eyes began to film over with tears the very second she began to speak. 

“I was scared. I  _ am  _ scared. This wasn’t something I ever thought could happen, and I sure as hell didn’t bargain for it to get to this stage. I know you're here, and I know you will be, even if my mind is screaming right now. I’m not ready for this, but when have I been ready for any normal life event. They didn’t teach us that stuff alongside breaking necks and the anatomy of a person based on the major arteries.” 

A look of surprise came onto her face, then it scrunched tightly into a look of pain, her eyes squeezed shut for a moment, she breathed in deeply and out again, softening the creases in her face tentatively as she exhaled. 

“And James, I read the folder stuff, that’s why I had a nap - hadn’t planned to fall asleep with the work stuff but I was planning on sleeping. It says to do that.” 

Judging by the confusion on Bucky's face she carried on, realising he was surprised by this strange Natasha who read the instructions. 

“It’s time for another out of the frying pan and into the fire moment James Barnes, in the next twenty-four hours you’re being promoted to the rank of father I reckon. It’s not been long since the pain started, still a long way to go but I know this feeling, I remember it. Are you ready to take my hand and jump?” 

“Always.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Darylslover33 for asking about a sequel, it has fueled ideas as I mentioned then, and I now have a prequel and am hoping to have a sequel too for the original scene. Hope people enjoy this one and hope to hear your thoughts!

A person's curse words of choice said a lot about their mood. It could tell how mad they were. James Barnes knew terms such as the roughly translated, ‘go sit on a dick,’ and other such phrases tumbling from Natasha’s mouth with the rough r’s and consonant heavy words of her first language, that was the height of fury. 

She had disappeared through to the bedroom after dinner while he cleared plates. He had been glad that in the last week or so she was starting to gain an appetite again after a long-lasting bout of nausea. He had begun work on the dishes in the sink when he heard her first mutter swear words through the wall, but the lead into full-on Russian swearing, that was his cue to help. 

Bucky had entered the bedroom to find Natasha standing in underwear, a pile of dresses, suit jackets and pants were tossed across the bed. Some lay neat placed flat but others had clearly been tossed in frustration. She didn’t even turn to face him, knowing he was there as she kept her attention on the rack of hanging clothes in the closet in front of her. 

“Nothing, not a single fucking thing. I’m supposed to look smart tomorrow, businesswoman. That’s what I was given, businesswoman! Even if I can get the zippers up I look like a badly stuffed toy! It’s ridiculous, I am not made for this shit, nothing ever changes, I’ve always worn the same stuff, always known it would fit, now I don’t even know if I can count on being able to fit my fucking shoes!” 

He could hear it in her voice, hear how Natasha’s tone began to slip from pure anger into emotion. Tears would follow, another thing she wasn’t used to, and something Bucky wasn’t used to seeing. The Natasha he had known for so long was usually only seen with tears in her eyes as a result of a punch in the nose or cutting onions, she didn’t upset easily. There was more to this than the clothes, that much was obvious. 

Noticing James hadn’t yet uttered a word in response Natasha turned her head to face him. She looked at him for a few moments before, frustrated, pouted her lips and blew upwards, trying to get her hair to move out of her face. 

Bucky smiled, only a little but it was enough for her to notice. It was nice to see her, the version of her that had a childish side, a spark that not many would have after the hell she had lived through. 

“Jeez,” she was trying to smile but he could still hear the cracking in her voice, the squeaks which gave away how close she still was to tears. 

“I got this cut only a few weeks ago, seems to be growing like crazy.” 

Bucky nodded, 

“Yeah, that’ll be the hormones,” 

This time she turned fully, leaning her side against the open door of the closet, inadvertently jutting her hip out to the side. 

“Hormones?” 

Her tone indicated ellipses after the question, she was waiting for an explanation. 

“Yeah, I’ve been reading a bit, gave me something to do when you were away last week, stopped me worrying as much - and before you say it I know you’ll be ok, but I always worry, I can’t help it.” 

The pause Natasha allowed indicated he could continue, 

“It’s all to do with female hormones, they are responsible for all the baby changes but some other stuff comes as side effects; faster growing and thicker hair, nails growing quicker, your skin looking healthier, changes in breast size,” 

He heard his own voice become quieter and tail off on the last one, and knew instantly she would tease him about it. It was just something about those medical words, they felt more awkward and strange in his mouth, reminded him of the awful awkwardness that came with being fourteen and having little to no control over his own body. 

Natasha smirked, looking at him with bright eyes for a beat. It wasn’t that she needed a moment to think of the perfect response, he knew she already had it, but she waited to torture him that little bit more, to wallow in the uncomfortable look on his face. There was something about that look that made his ears go pink and warmth flood his cheeks. She knew that and loved it. 

Unfortunately, the smirk disappeared instantly from Natasha’s face, it wasn’t often she relented the opportunity to tease someone, especially if there was embarrassment involved but he could see with the way the smile dropped and the following long exhale that she wasn’t in the mood to follow it through. 

Natasha walked over to the bed, even with the ways her body weight had changed, her point of balance shifting rapidly, she still walked one foot in front of the other. Elegant, with pointed toes and a slightly exaggerated sway of her hips. She sunk down onto the bed, not caring that she sat on top of a small pile of dresses, the hangers clicking together as they moved. Her right foot tucked under her left thigh, a position he was used to seeing, but this time he noticed that her belly brushed against her calf. 

It was still a slight change compared to the body of the average woman, Natasha’s athletic build likely helped things keep up appearances. Bucky remembered the day she had come home after almost a month of missing one and other due to work, he remembered when he had found the positive pregnancy test. She had been able to show, with two hands placed on her stomach, how a definite change was taking place but the change was so small that all she had noticed was a pair of jeans that no longer buttoned. When they saw a doctor, the one assigned through the CIA in order to maintain national security, they had dated the pregnancy at nearly halfway through. The doctor had talked in weeks, it had taken some mental calculations to change them into months - the metric for pregnancy which made the most sense to him. They had both been shocked then, but after a bunch of reading up on pregnancy it had seemed even more surreal, a spy so good even her body was in on keeping secrets. 

“Sorry James, but even if there are some potential upsides, the hair, the boobs, not feeling as gross as I have, none of that allows me to fill the role of Kirsten McKinley tomorrow afternoon.” 

There was a small smile in his direction, a smile that came as an apology, that said ‘I know you’re trying.’ Bucky sighed in empathy, hating that these issues existed, hating that he wanted to tell her not to go in tomorrow, not to work at all for the short while they had left before there was an extra person in the apartment. He knew he couldn’t, knew she needed work. Work kept her sane, allowed her to feel like the person she knew she was, not the person who was able to have a partner and a baby. She was still surprised to receive mail for Mr J. Barnes, wasn’t quite used to their shared address. 

Bucky slipped down onto the bed beside her and in perfect sync she planted her head against her shoulder, his arm falling into place around her back to rest on her waist. He pulled her to him, noticing the goosebumps forming on her skin from the cold of sitting in her underwear. Breathing in the smell of her hair he wanted to pull her closer still, wrap her up in his arms as if she were the baby herself. He pressed a soft kiss to her head, letting his lips linger for a moment. 

“I know you don’t want me to go,” Natasha spoke, tilting her head up to try and look in his direction. 

“But they don’t all know, not yet. I’m not ready to tell them yet and most of the time they can’t even tell, it doesn’t put me in any more danger - at least it doesn’t by outsiders knowing they can use the little guy against me.” 

Silence fell again, but he could tell by the way she held her breath that Natasha had more to say. Emotions took time, she wasn’t used to being emotionally vulnerable but then, neither was he. 

“I know you could tell me all the reasons to stay here, we could argue, fall out, but you’re holding back. Thank you for that.” 

With her last word, she pulled out of his grasp, planting a quick kiss on his cheek before Bucky could turn and capture her lips instead. It was soft, quick, the sort of kisses that had never been part of their lives in the past when they were either fuelled by strong passion or by incredible relief that they had both survived. This domesticity was new, even if the all-in approach was what had created the life they were soon going to live, both was something neither of them could ever have expected. 

“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it many more times, you will be the death of me Natalia.” 

Bucky’s hand, having slid to sit against her spine when Natasha had pulled back, felt the shiver that ran over her skin as he spoke. Natasha, stood grabbing the light coloured silk kimono she owned off the floor and slipping it on. His expression must have given away a little hint of confusion at her movements because he saw the familiar smirk return briefly before she placed a hand on his shoulder to steady herself and leaned towards him, her lips close enough to his ear that he could feel the warmth of her breath. 

“You missed something in your research, Soldat. You know what saying my name like that does, perhaps once we fix this mess, I’ll give you a refresher on the other things those added hormones accentuate.” 

Now it was his turn to shudder. Natasha stood back upright, pulling the sash of her robe around to the front and tying the ends above her stomach. 

“The tips of your ears James,” She smiled, 

“Even with hair down past your jaw, they turn pink and give you away.” 

The endearing smile disappeared to be replaced with eyes that pointed to the ceiling. A beat fell while she worked out her plan. 

So, and I swear this is the most housewife like thing I will ever say, go grab the sewing machine and stick it on the table, looks like it’s going to be an evening of clothes alterations.” 

They had worked together, Natasha instructing Bucky on what to pin and where to place a loose running stitch while she worked the machine itself, taking out hems and adapting the shape of fabric pieces. It was gone nine before they knew it, at Natasha’s encouragement he had taken a quick shower while she finished the last odds and ends. He had an early start the following morning, hopefully, he would leave a soundly sleeping Natasha in bed when he left. Hopefully, she wouldn’t get up too early for the office-going alias she had acquired. 

Wandering from the bathroom back through to the bedroom in his boxers, he rubbed at tendrils of wet hair absentmindedly, his mind focused on the sewing machine and debating mentally over whether he had explicitly told Natasha to leave it on the table. He knew it was too heavy for her, but that wouldn’t necessarily stop her. It was too easy to forget her strength and the strain she should put on her body were different things. 

Again he entered the bedroom to find Natasha had her back to him, head cocked to one side as she studied the now completed outfit on a hanger looped over the top of the wardrobe door. She had started off with black trousers, cropping the legs higher so they sat mid-calf length, sewing a small split into the hem of each leg which gave the fabric more room around her calves. At the top of the trousers, she had used some of the cut-offs from the lower legs to extend the front, making a new buttonhole which now closed neatly. The top wasn’t hers originally, she had taken a pale, periwinkle blue shirt of his and changed a few elements. The shirt had become sleeveless, she had removed some of the buttons from around the neck, allowing the neckline to drop. A black blazer sat over the shoulders of the repurposed shirt, a thin silk scarf had been added as a last-minute edition around the waist of the shirt. When tied loose the silk belt helped to draw the eye a little but the flow of the shirt down to mid-thigh kept the attention off her stomach. 

‘It will be just enough that if something makes them look then they will think it was the scarf that caught their attention. Hiding in plain sight.’ Or so she had told him. 

He saw her smile in the mirror positioned at eye height on the closet door. 

“What?” 

He asked, standing in the doorway still. She had swapped out the kimono and underwear combo to an old tank top pyjama pants, her hair had been grabbed with one hand and stuffed into a loose bun at the back of her head during the sewing process. Even haphazardly put together her hair was flawless - like a soldier, the young girl he had first met had been expected to look perfect at all times, some of that she could never get rid of. 

“Nothing, just admiring the view,” she smirked. He threw the damp towel at her, she dodged it effortlessly, a smile still playing at the corners of her mouth. 

Bucky walked into the room slowly, coming to stand behind Natasha, a hand on her shoulder as he looked at the ensemble with her. 

“It looks great.” 

He had already told her that but he hoped the more he said the words the more they might sink into her mind and have her accept them. 

“It’s ok, I’ve done better.” A pause, then she turned to look at him, forgetting how much more of her body stuck out in front of her and having to step back mid-turn. Even with him, with the man who was in many ways responsible for the baby they would soon have, she wasn’t totally comfortable. It was as though her stomach had become a prosthetic, like the guys of Bucky’s father’s generation who lost a leg and never really worked with the crude replacement they were given. It wasn’t part of her body, unlike most women he had seen expecting children she actively avoided placing her hands on her stomach. She didn’t pat and cradle the baby absentmindedly, she was more likely to walk into something or misjudge a move during training than relate to the child. 

She allowed him to put his hands on their little bump, allowed him to feel the movements of the little creature which felt so strange but he could tell she didn’t like it, more tolerated it. 

He took the opportunity in that moment, almost wanting to hold his breath as he let his human hand fall to her waist before drawing it back towards him, letting it rest on the softer skin of her belly. She looked at his hand, the words she had lined up to say disappearing. He could see the tension in her shoulders at the touch. 

“Ugh, I’m sorry, this should be normal, it’s a stupid reaction.” She voiced her thoughts, her eyes staying fixed on his hand as more tumbled from her mouth. 

“You should be able to touch me, it’s good for the little guy to know your voice and, and you shouldn’t miss all of this because I’ve got issues.” 

“You don’t have-,” 

She interrupted before he could finish, her eyes snapping to meet his gaze, a determination in her eyes. 

“I do. We both know that I’m hurting us, whatever us is now, I’m pushing you back because I can’t get over myself with all of this.”

“You're not pushing me-.” 

“So it’s normal, is it? We were healthy, had a good mix of everything. If I don’t have a problem then why haven’t we had sex since I came back? Since we found out? James, it’s been over a month since I got home, and it’s not as if I don’t want to, God these hormones drive me nuts at times but I just. I feel wrong.” 

The sudden rage had brought her fists to sit against his chest, but the anger in her eyes was accompanied by tears glistening on her cheeks. He didn’t know what to say, glancing at the floor to allow himself a second of respite in the silence. It made him angry, but not at her, at the bastards who had ruined her life, the men and women who drilled so much into her as a child that would never be undone. The fact they did not supply any love, that Ivan had cuffed her to the radiator when she returned to the Red Room so he could keep her in one place when he slapped her. When he conditioned her to think this was some form of care, that he had wanted her back because he cared not because she had skills he needed. When she had needed someone to hold her, to listen as she released a flood of pain only a few days after she had given birth, at only sixteen years old, to a baby already dead. 

There had been times, he realised, which he had missed. Times where she had turned on the seduction, toyed with him a little and then cut the power. There had been an evening the same week she got back, they had been on the sofa, relaxing. The relaxation had turned to soft kisses, which had got deeper. She had encouraged him, drawing his hands to her breasts. It had been a whirlwind moment, the type of situation where he became a puppet to her and to his own instincts. She had drawn him to sit upright, before climbing on top of him to straddle his thighs, her hand slipping down to the front of his jeans, pawing urgently. 

At the time he hadn’t been able to work out what caused her to pull the plug but now he realised what it was. She had rocked her body into his and in that brushed her belly against him. That had been the switch, that had reminded her of the reality, of the disconnect between her and the baby, of the way it felt like an intruder in her own body. 

“You’re scared.” He stated, at first not knowing what he planned to say, but a look of curiosity appeared on Natasha’s face and made unplanned words tumble out. 

“You can’t connect to this tiny human, and I understand why you would be scared of connecting to them, of course, I do. What you went through, I understand that. You also like control, even when things go to shit you always have a plan B and C, but this all came out of nowhere, we didn’t get time to accept this. Hell, I think most people who lost a kid would find it hard even if they planned to get pregnant but we didn’t even think this could happen, and we missed all the getting-used-to-the-idea part. It feels alien like someone else has invaded your body and started changing it. Maybe I sound like an idiot here, I don’t know how it all works but this metal lump where I had an arm, I felt a lot of that. This arm killed people, it destroyed things, silenced screams. It’s not part of me, or it wasn’t part of me.” 

While he spoke Bucky took one of Natasha’s bunched hands from his chest with his left hand, placing both hands, his acting as a blanket atop hers, on her belly. He felt her tense a little, her muscles entering their ‘ready’ phase, prepared to punch out the next person to move, but they started to soften a little after a moment of being held in place. 

The emotional silence was burst by a violent jutting foot pushing up into their hands. Natasha laughed, using her free hand to wipe some of the sticky tears from her cheek,

“Think this guy is telling us to get lost,”

Bucky felt his shoulders slide down, a release of tension he had no idea was there. 

“No,” he shook his head. 

“This little guy. Our baby, he’s telling you he loves you. And that literally no one has ever had such a hot ninety-year-old Mom.” 

“Thanks, Barnes, you really know how to make a person feel better, and since when was the baby a he?” 

“Since, that’s the first time you’ve called them a baby so my plan worked.” Moving his hand out from under Natasha’s Bucky let them slip to her waist, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. 

“And you are,” he shrugged, adding a second kiss to her head before he felt a small hand grapple round the back of his neck and pull him down to meet Natasha’s lips.

“You are just as damn sexy as you’ve ever been, maybe more, knowing you’ve got part of me in you.” 

He kissed her again, briefly before combing her hair back with his finger to kiss her neck just under the line of her jaw. She couldn’t cover the gentle sigh that escaped her body even as she teased him. 

“I mean, it’s most likely yours I suppose, there are possibly other candidates.” 

He drew back from her neck, looking her in the eye but letting his hands continue to wander lazily, sliding down to her hip, across the small of her back, taking a second to grab her ass before moving on again. 

“Ah, you forget я знаю, Наташка, It’s gotta be me, the little tadpoles have some sort of superpower.” 

A small ‘mm,’ was given in response, short, quick and deceptively innocent. A hand snaked around her belly, running lightly over the front of his boxers, her eyes watching his face as she squeezed lightly and watched his shoulders tense. Dear God, it had been a long time, he had forgotten the small plus side to Natasha’s training which meant she was very good with her hands. 

Her hand stilled for a moment, the free one resting on his cheek, bringing his eyes to meet with the bright green of her own. 

“James, I want to try this.” 

The words, her sincere eyes, that was all that remained to be said, the trigger was pulled. He caught her lips in his, kissing her with a hunger that she only matched, a hunger that seemed to increase the more they ate. Natasha’s hands moved again, wrapping tight around the back of his neck, her fingers playing with his damp hair, he barely had a moment to notice the loss of her hand between his legs before she purred back at him. Bucky never really forgot that sound never forgot any of the sounds she made when totally giving in to herself but each time he heard her gasps, whimpers, sighs and groans their sound seemed more than it had been before. It was like comparing a sketch to a full coloured photograph, the comparison wasn’t there. 

That purr of appreciation brought him back to their earlier mention of hormones, normally he would have to put much more time in to get any response from Natasha, especially a response like that. He could feel a fire rising in himself, a shudder running through as he replayed the sound in his head. Moving from her mouth Bucky pushed closer to her, his hips pressing against her stomach. He used their difference of height to place open-mouthed, sucking kisses down the line of her neck. 

“Huh, someone’s eager, nice to have something firm that isn’t an elbow pushing into my skin.” 

He could hear the smile in her voice, though she wasn’t fully relaxed, she was trying to be. With a last kiss to her collar bone, Bucky stopped for a moment, checking in. He didn’t need to ask her out loud, the small nod and the spark in her eyes answered the silent ‘you ok?’ Her chest rose and fell quickly, matching up with faster breathing before he even realised he was watching the swell of the top of her breasts rise and fall, like little hills of soft skin. 

Natasha’s eyes drew a line from his own to where his gaze settled, she gave him a knowing look like a child caught out looking at a woman for the first time. 

Natasha pulled out of his grasp, and he let her slip from his hands, watching and waiting for her next move. She took the few steps over to their bed, sitting lightly on the edge of it. He was frozen to the spot, christ it was like he had forgotten it all somehow. 

“Come on then Sergeant Barnes,” she was doing that look, the one where she peered up at him through her eyelashes, the one that made her look almost innocent even though it was anything but. 

“Join me, I think you might break otherwise.”

She waited for him to climb onto the bed beside her, one foot hanging off the edge, and it was his turn to follow her gaze, noticing the way her pupils ran over his body like an x-ray scan. Once he sat down, she pulled her vest top off over her head, tossing it to the side and meeting his eyes. 

His tongue seemed to have set in the bottom of his mouth, he could hear her breathing hard. Again in line with his reading, it was clear her breasts had swollen in size, he could see how her nipples had darkened, the pigmentation made it easier for a baby to see the right spot. He was cautious as he reached forward, letting her move to lay on her back as he did. His first touch was gentle, he cradled her breast with his human hand, still, she hissed, sucking air in between her teeth at the touch. He had paused, scared the touch was too strong, that he might hurt her but again she nodded her head, eyes shut. 

He stretched out, laying his body alongside hers, trying awkwardly to knead both of her breasts gently in his mismatching arms while also trying to discover how not to push any of his weight on her. His metallic finger pressed a little harder over the nipple it covered, again she gasped, he noticed the way her thighs squirmed, tightening together. 

Again Bucky’s instincts told him to draw back, he instantly removed all pressure but a head shake stopped any more movement. Natasha’s hand fell on his wrist, holding him there. 

“It’s ok, it’s just… It’s like there’s electricity in me, but someone has turned up the voltage. It’s more, I feel more.” 

She kept her eyes on him, finishing her sentence before sliding a flat palm awkwardly down his stomach, her fingers lifting the waistband of his boxers and then the feeling which he knew well, the anticipation reaching a peak and the relief that came with her hand wrapping around its target. His eyes closed automatically, switching off one sense to concentrate on another, feeling her hand glide over his skin slowly, before stopping and changing direction. He hadn’t yet found enough balance to reopen his eyes before her hand left. Instantly he felt the loss, a slow fizzing of the height of arousal like a tablet dissolving into water, his eyes opened as the bed creaked in annoyance, Natasha trying to pull her hips up enough to kick off the pyjamas still covering her bottom half. She grabbed a pillow from behind her and Bucky took the unspoken instructions, moving away from her side so whatever was being planned she was able to manoeuvre into. 

She kicked her feet around, moving so she lay on the bed in the correct orientation, sliding the pillow she had grabbed under her so it lay behind her hips. Bucky watched, not sure what he was expected to do but knowing she would tell him. He could see in her eyes a determination that had been missing. Natasha was in control, she had a part of what she craved so much back in her life. Whether it was determined she truly felt or the type she forced upon herself to get past doubts, it had helped her find this part of herself which had hidden for over a month, one of the many things she had lost in her mind since discovering the baby. 

As she pushed herself into a fully flat position she grasped the top of his arm, holding it just where the muscles of shoulder indented to meet those of the metal arm, where he switched from skin to machine. 

He followed her lead, allowing her to manipulate him so he was positioned on his knees between now opened legs. 

“The pillow’s meant to help,” her voice had gone a little quieter, a part of the spark dimmed in her eyes, she was less sure. 

“It’s meant to raise my hips up so it’s easier for you to stay on your knees, stops you from having to touch it.”

There had been a small break, almost so short he hadn’t caught it, after the word touch. She didn’t have a word, didn’t know what to say, choosing the word ‘it’ because it was a disconnect. 

“What if I want to?” 

Her head tilted slightly, eyebrows growing closer together. 

“What?” 

Bucky crouched forward, being careful to keep in control of where his weight distributed, leaning down over her. He pushed his weight into his right hand, with the other he began to gently rub small circles across the surface of her stomach. Watching her intently he kept going, widening the circles so he was reaching the whole of her small bump, rubbing a little harder, becoming massaging strokes of his hand. 

“Nat, this is part of you. I can’t imagine you ever saying no to a part of your body being touched like this. I’ll say it as much as I have to, you are beautiful, that doesn’t exclude the changes.” 

Bucky pushed his knees back, so his mouth was able to reach her stomach, pressing a kiss right in the centre, then a second and a third. 

She laughed, swatting at his head with her hand. 

“Get off Barnes, it tickles!” 

He did as he was told, meeting her eyes once again. 

“Let me show you. Let me love you as you are, as gorgeous as you are. I don’t care how long it’ll take to drum it into you, but I’m not going to stop trying.” 

They kissed, short and sweet, but she gave him a nod, then a characteristic Natasha comment, 

“Think it’s more like pushing it into me, but ok.” 

Despite the words, he knew she was sincere.

Bucky took over control, thinking for a moment before getting her to roll onto her side so he could lie behind her. She leant back, twisting her neck to kiss him deeply, giving some encouragement like adding a spray of petrol to the calming flames. He was able to reach around her, to run both metal and flesh hands across her skin, caressing her breasts, stomach, hips. In turn, her hand slinked behind her, once again searching for his groin. He couldn’t see her face properly but the breaths she took were sharp like puffs of smoke from a train engine, he knew her eyes were closed, knew she was concentrating on feeling. 

Her sixth sense told her she was being watched, that he was waiting for her consent before giving in to what was really wanted. 

“Yes,” She told him, without turning her head. She masked his hand on the underside of her belly with her own, 

“I want you to be inside me, please. Just, slowly, yeah.” 

He heard his own ragged breath escape at the words, doing as she said, he let the hand Natasha already had between them guide him into her. The moment he felt a slight stretch, the intense warmth of her body she gasped loudly, raising the hand she had used to guide him, indicating she needed a moment. He slowly slid his right arm out from between her waist and the mattress, using it to push himself up a little, ignoring the desperate need for more contact so he could see her better. 

Her eyes were indeed closed, her face slightly crumpled up, as she breathed deeply the creases disappeared, smoothing out like a piece of reclaimed paper. 

“More.” She instructed, he could tell by her tone she still wasn’t fully comfortable but already he could feel the way her muscles tensed, beckoning him deeper, a true mix of pleasure and pain uniting. 

Following her instructions he pushed forward a little more, his body shuddering at the warm embrace of her. This was different too, the muscles inside her seemed stronger, insistent in what they wanted and the grip of her body onto his was both strong and unimaginable. 

“I’m going to flatter you, Barnes, I’m sure many boys would love to hear this but I can’t take all of you, it’s too much.” 

He chuckled to himself, there was always a line. 

“Is this ok?” He asked again, drawing back a little to let her feel the movement within her body. Her response came as a whimper, a delicious whimper that said not only ‘yes’ but ‘god yes.’ 

After what felt like an age he was able to let go of words and communicate through feeling. The differences, the stronger muscular movements inside of her, the squeezing of them, it was like tasting the most amazing thing but with each bite getting better than the last. Her whimpers continued with each thrust forward, giving way quickly to loader gasps, but her hand held firm over his on her belly, an indication not to stop. 

The hormones that fast-tracked her arousal continued to do so, and Bucky was almost glad that he could sense her reaching closer to the edge, knowing the constant increase in pressure around him wouldn’t be tolerated much longer. 

“James, ugh, please, please,” Natasha whined, repeating the same words, losing them in her mind as she concentrated on the overwhelming sensations. That was when he lost it, gasping as his hips shuddered, feeling her own body begin to convulse in his arms. Small sounds continued to leave her, each getting quieter than the last, despite feeling his own body relax Bucky could feel her body still spasming in pleasure. The gasps gave way too panting and she gave him a gentle elbow in the chest, pushing him back so she could twist onto her back and pulling him into a deep kiss at the same time. The kiss lingered, neither wanting to pull away, as though she was trying to force the emotions from her body into his. 

When the need to breathe made her pull away from him Natasha smiled, her head flopping back onto the bed. 

“Thank you, James,” 

“You don’t have to, it’s not like you’re paying me or anythi-.” 

“That’s not what I meant!” Natasha laughed, cutting him off before the sentence filled out. 

“Thank you for being patient, for listening to the thoughts, for seeing that only 90% of me is a damaged mess.” 

He nodded once, the way he would have acknowledged another soldier in the field, even with no military training Natasha would have outranked him by far. It was a mark of respect, one that she could recognize more than the more intimate and warm forms. 

“I meant it. I always do.” He paused, smiling as a thought came back to him. 

“You’re definitely the sexiest 90-year-old Mom to be I’ve ever met.” 

She raised her eyebrows, smiling, 

“Oh yeah? Well, you can get it up quite well without a prescription, for a centenarian.” 

Always the last words, always, but then she wouldn’t be Natasha otherwise. And she hadn’t been, parts of her had been missing for weeks, parts were still missing, but he was getting her back, building her up like a 10,000 piece jigsaw, even if some pieces took longer to put in place. She had done it for him, many times, and he would do it in return. Most people struggled to adapt from the mundane to the challenging, to a world full of fear and risk. They were some of the few for which the mundane was strange. That was one of the times he felt himself go back to the young man of the nineteen forties, and to thank God for Natasha Romanoff. 


End file.
